Puppets
by Rochelle B
Summary: Being a vampire has down sides…blood debts being one. Snape is indebted to Dumbledore, and is little more than a puppet… The other downside is obsession… with Harry Potter, another one of Dumbledore's puppets. (Part Three: And in the end its all pol
1. Obsession

Puppets

I don't own anyone you can clearly identify.

Author: Rochelle B

Series: The Pack

Timeline: The Summer before GoF, During GoF, and the summer before OotP.

Pairings: One Sided Severus/Harry. Snape/Remus, Snape/Lucius, Snape/OFC, and Sirius/Remus.

Summery: Being a vampire has down sides…blood debts being one. Snape is indebted to Dumbledore, a man he doesn't trust, and is little more than a puppet… The other downside is obsession… with Harry Potter.

Warnings: Vampire Snape and allusions to Male Pregnancy, vaguely Evil Dumbledore.

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Part One

Obsession

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It occurs to him, as he stands and watches the small house that this isn't exactly the most normal thing he could be doing on a night like this. Then again, the most normal thing he could be doing, in a logical sense, would be feeding…a night such as this would be ideal.

It was warm and a balmy breeze was blowing…nights like this brought young, stupid lovers from their homes and into the park, seeking a chance to being alone, together. Picking off one couple would be so easy it almost seems…pointless to him, in a way.

But he couldn't do such a thing, even if he really wanted to.

Not these days anyway. He was 'reformed' or so Albus called it. In reality what it was, was a blood debt that he owed to the man. He'd saved the life of one of his Clan members, and as the leader of said vampire clan, he was in his debt until he died, until he betrayed him, or until he released him from his service.

As far as he was aware, the chances of any of those things happening were slim to none.

And he tried to tell himself he didn't mind, because Albus Dumbledore was a good man. Not quite harmless, but mostly benign and kind, if not slightly on the mad side of things. Not to mention that hid son seemed quite fond of him…

But by contrast, his son is best friends with the child of that werewolf and his convict dog, so who was to say Chase was the best judge of character around? Not that Lupin's son was anywhere near as infuriating at his parents had been, as that was a near impossible feat (though the young Potter matched, if not surpassed his father as far as sheer annoyance potential went) but it was the principal of the matter.

The child of a vampire…best friends with the child of a werewolf…it was, up until now, something that was borderline unheard of. And yet there they were, attached at the hip. Someone, somewhere, was having a great laugh at their expense.

Probably Lupin, now that I thought about it. That man…was by far the most confusing person he had ever had the displeasure of encountering. He thought, perhaps, that he even baffled himself, and it surely wouldn't surprise him if he did. Lupin was, like Albus, just this side of madness. But his madness wasn't the same as the old man's. Lupin was insane in a way that, for reasons he was not quite sure of, made him a better person.

It seemed contrived, especially to him, but he'd managed to go from a selfish, over-pampered, rich twit to a fairly responsible, calm, and almost mystifying, not to mention poor, twit, by suffering a series of nervous breakdowns. Most people ended up checking themselves into St. Mungos before going through half of what Lupin did, and yet he'd someone managed to come out on top.

Perhaps that was what was appealing about the werewolf and why, in site of having a deep dislike for him, he found himself unable to cut Lupin from his life. They had a spent a time as lovers, and it was hardly the worst relationship he'd ever forged, but it had ended very badly.

Their sons had forced a truce of sorts and, though the day he admitted it out loud would be a cold day indeed, he and the werewolf understood each other. Understood the darkness of the night, and what it was to hear someone's heartbeat with unnatural ears, and wonder what it'd be like to crush the heart in your palm, just to hear the sound it made in that instant before it stopped.

Because every time Lupin said he only felt the wolf during the moon, he was lying. He knew better, because he's shared a bed with the man, and remembered the biting kisses and raking fingernails and…well, he remembered. There was darkness in Lupin, a monster that hovered just underneath his outer shell, and demanded to get out.

Wanted to feel and taste blood, have the earth beneath its paws, and be…free. Lupin just suppressed it well. Very well.

And he understood that. His own monster lurked, wanting and waiting, biding its time for when it was no longer bound by the laws of a meddling old (human) coot. It didn't like being lorded over by a human, powerful wizard or no, and that was the reason why he'd never be one of Albus' flock, as Lupin and Black and the Potters had insisted upon being. No…as much as he appreciated Albus letting him into Hogwarts all of those years ago, and not expelling him the moment he became obsessed with figuring out Lupin's secret, he didn't want to be his puppet.

And he was. He was Dumbledore's puppet. They all were, of course, but he loathed it.

Albus was different from Lupin, in his madness, and more similar to the likes of Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy. His madness was calm and collected, hiding a calculating and perhaps even cruel mind, behind those twinkling blue eyes… His madness was to disarm you, lull you into something resembling a sense of safety, and then suddenly you found yourself in his grasp and unable to escape.

Lupin had his debt, and guilt, over Hogwarts. Black, who was apparently an innocent man, would owe Albus for caring for his mate and child while he was in Azkaban. He owed him for Hogwarts, for the life of one of his clan members, and a good deal of other things, and he knew that soon…soon Albus meant to collect that debt.

The Dark Lord was going to rise again and he would be needed to play Albus' faithful spy, willing to risk his neck for the sake of the side of light, when in fact nothing could have been further from the truth. He would risk his neck for two things, and only two things: To repay his debt, and protect his family.

And the former was less important than the latter, and he knew Albus knew it. And that was another layer in which he was a puppet and Albus could jerk his stings. He held his son over his head, dangling his happiness and innocence like a fairly obscene carrot…

And there were other things he held…secrets that he would rather not have exposed, and things that were better left not mentioned.

"Severus, I must confess, I find you…latest obsession to be distressing."

I arched an eyebrow, looking away from the bowl of lemon drops. Far from seeds, I'd found myself counting the damn things anyway. I stare at the man, trying to quell the uneasy feeling in my stomach. I wonder…is it wrong that I want to rip his face off and…perhaps use it as a decorative hat of some nature. Sometimes it was...difficult to reconcile normal vampire thoughts with those the average human thought normal.

"Oh?"

"Yes. Your preoccupation with Harry."

"I would hardly call that an obsession."

Dumbledore smiled. "You say much the same off all your obsessions. Remus Lupin for instance."

"He's a werewolf, of course I was obsessed." I said dismissively. I hate these little 'heart-to-hearts' of ours, where he tries to act as if he doesn't know I harbor little more than indifference for him, at the very best.

"And Autumn? Or Lucius perhaps?"

I smiled faintly. Autumn and Lucius had been…utterly intoxicating and…undeniable. And perhaps I'd been more obsessed with them, than in love as I'd been foolish enough to think when I was younger…but nonetheless, they had been something to behold.

"What of them?"

"I warned you-"

"You ordered me." I cut in, scowling. "You ordered me to stay away from them." In order to keep me firmly lodged under his thumb. He simply could never allow me an ounce of happiness that he didn't 'gift' me with. Remus had been a gift, and when our affair had ended (badly) Dumbledore had taken it as an almost personal affront, shocked that I'd dared to refuse what he'd graced me with.

Having Lupin here this year, the year when Sirius Black escaped, was his punishment. Make me watch my former lover pine away, watching the sky late at night and wandering the halls endlessly, in search of the one he loved more than anything…make me wonder why I was destined to be second place.

Try to hurt me.

Really I was just upset that the werewolf would dare to try and move onto my territory, but I wasn't hurt. Remus and I had a relationship of mutual indifference that I was happy to maintain. I simply wanted him away from what was mine.

And, though I was loath to admit it, I wanted him away from Albus. Dumbledore had some sort of plan brewing in his head, and it would almost surely involve Remus and Remus' son, and I wasn't going to just allow it.

I couldn't do anything visible of course. It had to be subtle…such as prompting Lupin's students to realize what he was and letting the parents take care of the rest. Sadly, I'd overestimated the students of Hogwarts in such a task, as they all continued to remain oblivious.

"And it was for the best." Dumbledore said, frowning. I could feel the temperature in the room drop, though it was probably but a few scant degrees. Vampires are sensitive to such things however, so it couldn't go unnoticed. "They were servants of the Dark Lord."

"We seemed to have that in common." I muttered. Only at least they got to choose whom they would serve. I never got such a chance.

Albus' lips pressed into a thin line for a moment, then he made a dismissive noise. "Your obsession with Harry…he is a child you realize."

"I assure you my counting skills leave nothing to be desired." I pushed my chair back and stood. 'I harbor no hidden desire for Potter. If I did, I certainly wouldn't need your permission or input should I choose to pursue it."

Albus was silent for a moment, then spoke, tone deathly calm. "Severus, I will tell you this but once…do not trifle with Harry. AS long as you are indebted to me, you will do as I say."

"Of course."

That had been some time ago, before the debacle in the Shrieking Shack. He had to confess, he was rather disappointed that Black was innocent…

And, more than that, he was sickened how easily Lupin and Black had fallen under Albus' sway. The werewolf and the dog would surely follow the man around, doing as his bid, now that he had 'saved' Black from the Kiss.

Saved them without raising a finger and risking the lives, and sanity, of two teenaged children in order to do it. Then again, Granger and Potter were but puppets to Albus, so why should he be surprised by such actions…

Because it was Potter. He's assumed him a far more important puppet than all the rest, Dumbledore's golden marionette in a sense. He would play a much bigger role in what Albus wanted to do that much was clear by his orders to stay way…

Though, he also imagined that Albus was up in arms that he would dare speak against him, or take an actual interest in his other toys… How dare one of his pawns dare to ask about the game that was playing out around him?

"Professor Snape?"

He sighed, mildly disgusted with this sudden turn of events. He looked over at the boy, who was bathed in the light of a streetlamp. It bounced off of his unruly black hair, creating an almost halo around him. Confused emerald eyes watched him warily. The boy frowned, shoving his hands into his jeans, which were far too big for him, and he wondered at that.

Surely the likes of Harry Potter could afford better.

The boy blushed under his scrutiny and stared back at his home for a moment, before looking at him.

"I saw you form the window and…I…what are you doing out here?"

"I would think it rather obvious that I was watching you." He said tersely.

"Well yes…but why? Is something going on?" The boy's eyes widened slightly. "Did Dumbledore-"

"You're so foolish Potter. So…trusting." The boy blinked, taken aback by his tone, which was nothing short of harsh. "You're like your parents."

The boy scowled, the very mention of his parents making his naïve nervousness melt away. "Don't you talk about my parents. They were-"

"Good people. I'm aware." He stalked over to the teen and, smiling slightly, reached out and grabbed him by the back of the head. He went rigid, fear rolling off of him. "And that was their problem. They were good and sure they were on the side of the light, never daring to question. Tell me Potter, have you ever wondered why? Why Dumbledore, the wizard even Voldemort feared, didn't know Pettigrew was a traitor, and didn't know Black changed at the last moment? Or why you were never told that your parents were betrayed? Haven't you ever questioned why you spend your entire life in the dark?"

"I…" The boy squeaked then trailed off, and he sighed, more annoyed than he dared to let on. Foolish boy. "I don't understand."

No he didn't. And he couldn't. Not yet, not when even he didn't understand yet.

Severus sighed again, and then eased his grip on the teen. His made his tone soft and silky smooth, like honey and oil, before speaking again, working his own special brand of magic on the teen's mind.

"Forget this. You didn't see me outside of your window, and you'll continue to live in ignorant bliss." He frowned for a moment, watching those emerald eyes glaze over as Potter fell under his spell. His lips were shiny and pink, and the innocence almost radiated from him. He ran his thumb over those lips, which parted slightly.

He wondered what made this one teen so important. What did he have to make Dumbledore value him above his other puppets? Sure, he had power, but no more than that of say…Draco Malfoy or Ronald Weasley or Granger. His defeat of the Dark Lord as a child had more to do with his mother than it did with him…and after that it'd been more dumb luck than anything else.

And he meant dumb…

And that, of course, was why he was here, wasn't it? Because at the root of his 'obsession' was the desire to know why. Why Dumbledore placed Potter above all else…why all of his plans centered around one awkward teenage boy.

With Remus it'd been the beast within…with Lucius, the need to know the man beneath the mask…and with Autumn, the need to capture her wild air.

But this time it was why. What about Harry Potter made the world move slower and his near dead heart beat just a fraction faster. What did Potter possess that made him so damn intoxicating to everyone he encountered, even if the vast majority would never realize it.

More on a whim than anything, he kissed the boy. He swiftly silence the part of his mind that pointed out he was, more or less, molesting a child younger than his son, and focused on what was inside of the boy. What was so…

He couldn't think of a word for it.

The boy let out a breathy moan, lips parting and tongue darting out. He let one of his hands trail down the teen's back, unknowingly drawing him closer. One of Harry's hands reached up, pressing against neck, smooth fingers working over his skin.

And he felt it, or saw it, or maybe even heard it. The light. Bright and…overwhelming. He pulled away, realizing he'd let out a cry of pain, the teen slipping from his grasp. He put a hand to his head to steady himself, frowning slightly.

In that moment, he'd felt like he'd been consumed by some kind of light…burning its way into every part of his body. And, as vampires didn't really get along too well with burning lights, he'd broken the contact, but he couldn't help but feel as if he skin was burning…

He licked his lips, thinking that, in spite of all of that light, he'd seen darkness at the core. Deep inside, buried around brightness and power and loyalty and all of those good things Gryffindors supposedly stood for…was darkness.

Intriguing.

He considered Potter for a moment, who was sitting on the ground and looking dazed, before turning and leaving. The teen would forget the entire encounter, as Severus had instructed and…perhaps he would walk through the park.

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Harry blinked up at the ceiling of his bedroom, frowning some. He reached up, brushing his lips with his fingertips. He knew it'd been a dream, yet he felt as if his lips were tingling…

How odd.

"Get down here you ungrateful brat!" His uncle shouted and, heaving an annoyed sigh and shoving the already blurry dream away, Harry got up to ready for his day.


	2. You See Right Through Me

Puppets

Notes: This part is set during Goblet Of Fire, as you'll see, and shows Snape and his son, Chase…interacting. Or something akin to that. They have a complex way of relating to each other, which I'd like to chalk up to their vampirism, but they could just be insane.

And, for the record, this isn't so much a 'story' as a series of short stories that will set up another story, set after OotP. So resolution or any of that fun stuff will not be found here…

And did I mention this is un-beated? I'm sure its obvious but...whatever.

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Part Two

You See Right Through Me

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Names and labels…they've never bothered him much.

Vampire, monster, great bat, grease ball, slimy, murderer, torturer, Death, unworthy, Master, Prince, King…

In his lifetime he'd heard them all, all save the particular unsavory ones during his school days and he had to say he was less than impressed with the way his students recycled them. Like it would kill them to think of an original insult, as if they actually thought for a moment they were the first to call him bat or vampire.

And he was sure the irony of their angry insults and how close they were to the truth would be forever lost on them.

"You're smiling." Pink tinged gray eyes were staring at him intently, dancing with barely contained amusement. "You're plotting someone's death. Something messy and wet with lots of blood and squishy innards."

"No."

"Then your imagining that Potter boy, all…tied up and bleeding." The teen smirked. "Afraid and begging…" He licked his bottom lip and his eyes gazed slightly.

"Have you always been this perverse?" He had to admit the boy's train of thought, while intriguing, was just a touch disturbing. Perhaps because, any other time, he would have been right in his first two guesses.

Which, undoubtedly, made Severus fairly perverse, considering killing people wasn't a legitimate hobby and the Potter boy…well. That didn't need to be delved into to figure out why it was perverse. And the fact that his son, who was just barely fifteen, was able to gauge his thoughts so well was disturbing in and of itself.

Not to mention the nature of said thoughts. While their kind might have thought them normal, the likes of Harry Potter would flee in terror at the very implication of such imaginings.

"Yeah…but you slept with my mother, so you're still the bigger pervert." He looked fairly confident in that decision and walked around Severus' desk, head tilted off to the side. "Was I right?"

"No. For a seer you are very rarely correct."

"Eh."

If he was bothered he didn't show it. Instead he hoisted himself up onto his desk and folded one leg underneath his lithe body. If he were anyone else he would have found himself plummeting out of the third story window in a shower of glass and moonlight, to land in the hedge maze below. But, since he was who he was, Severus just ignored it and continued to read the essays his second year Hufflepuff class had submitted.

Sometimes he didn't know why he even bothered reading these things…it was just borderline masochistic on his part. He might as well have just given half marks across the board…it was probably a vast improvement on what most would achieve.

"Since you seem intent on bothering me, perhaps you'd like to try something productive?"

"Might as well." The teen said, reaching down and pulling open the drawer of the desk. He removed a quill and a jar of red ink. He picked up a pile, Advanced Potions Gryffindor and Slytherin, and began to read, a strand of red-brown hair falling into his eyes. He pushed it back, frowning ever so slightly.

Severus wrote the (failing) grade on the paper and paused for a moment to watch the boy. Chase Pryce was, in his opinion, destined for greatness in the art of potions. At fifteen he would have no problem grading Advanced Potions work and finding small details that anyone short Severus would have most likely missed.

Then again, he'd been training the teen in the art of Potions since he was old enough to not play with fire, and grading papers had once been a punishment for unruly behavior. He'd be appalled if he were anything less than good after all of that work.

His long fingers, better suited for the stings of an instrument than a quill, tapped against the desk as he made marks over the paper. His skin was pale, nearly translucent, and his hair went past his shoulder blades. It was curly so it probably was a considerable amount longer. His nose was long, and slightly crooked, as was the Snape fashion… but in a technical sense, he was average. Nothing like his mother, who'd commanded a room the moment she walked in.

But Chase was an observer. He liked to watch and wait, and analyze. He was not his mother's child, thankfully for Severus' piece of mind.

He turned back to the next essay.

"Father."

The phrase sent a chill up his spine. It always had a certain effect on him, since the teen had been old enough to speak it. Severus had certainly never seen himself in the position of being someone's father but so many years into it, and he found (as sickening and contrived as it surely was) that he wouldn't have changed it for the world. Being a father had, for better or worse, changed him.

Then again, having another person being totally dependent on you could do that a person.

He still remembered the day she'd told him. Autumn had, really, been the embodiment of her name. Tall and willowy, with brown hair that had just a hint of red and gold to it, and eyes as blue as the sky. She'd seemed almost delicate to those around her, but Severus knew different, knew a blood hungry killer lurked beneath the pretty exterior.

The Dark Lady, consort to Voldemort himself, among others, and the most feared female witch of their time. More blood stained her hands than some entire families had managed to spill. She'd taken her position seriously and had no time for raising children. Or at least that's what she'd told him when she showed up at his doorstep one day, holding an infant on the verge of bursting into tears. She'd handed the baby to him, at barely a month old and still lacking a name, then left as quickly as she'd come.

But that was the kind of woman she'd been.

He'd had his doubts about the parentage of the child, until he'd seen the red tears he cried; blood tears. One of the marks of a vampire. So yes, his child; his son.

A frightening concept for any person, especially one who was, by his people's standers, still a child himself. Not to mention he'd still been in the service of the Dark Lord at the time and hadn't been too sure the man would take the news he'd fathered a child with his consort well…

And he hadn't. Severus still had the marks on his back to prove the punishment he'd gone through.

"Yes Chase?"

"The visions are getting worse." The redhead said softly, not looking up from his work. "I had a seizure in Transfigurations. Nosebleed over supper. And really, is there anything more disturbing than a bleeding vampire I ask you? Like getting blood in isn't enough of an issue without it leaking out."

Chase, though nothing like his mother outwardly or in appearance, was a seer, like his mother had been. Seers were chosen by the Fates, who were more legend than fact in this era, and were more often than not subject to visions that could literally rip one apart from the inside.

Autumn was comatose in St. Mungos because of the toll her visions had eventually taken on her body. Severus was loath to admit defeat and allow his son to suffer the same fate just yet.

Severus nodded, silently agreeing. "I'll try to brew a stronger potion to suppress them. I've spoken to Helios, he suggested drinking it with blood may help."

"Helios thinks anything with blood will help everything."

Severus snorted. "Well, he's well over a thousand years old, so I won't be the one to argue with him." But the teen had a point. Severus had never encountered a more blood-centric vampire than his second in command.

Nonetheless, Helios was old and loyal and respected. Severus was content to let the elder run things at the Scottish Den for him for…the next hundred years or so. The downside of being who he was, a Snape, was the responsibility to the Vampire Den his great-great-grandfather had formed. They were a royal family of sorts.

In his opinion it was just a pain and work he didn't need. But to them he was Prince and Leader, two more labels he'd carried with him. He didn't care much; as long as he had Helios running things in his name he never had any cause to worry.

He pushed his chair back and reached for the cord that hung a meter from his desk. He pulled it and, in a matter of moments, the head house elf was standing before him, wringing his hands and shivering fearfully. Working for two vampires set the house elves on edge.

Severus found he couldn't blame them for it. He'd been told more than once that he cut a very intimidating figure, and his sanity had been the topic of heated debate among the Magical Creatures Department for quite some time.

And Chase…well, he lacked the ability to curb his tongue and would say just about anything that popped into that mind of his, most of it graphic and unpleasant. (Unpleasant for those around him, not for Chase.)

"Master Snape, Sir, what can Rieur do for you?"

Severus had to confess he'd always found the house elf simpering to be fairly annoying. "I want a bottle of blood wine." Chase turned, clearly interested. Severus stared at him for a moment, and then addressed the elf again. "And ice cream for him."

Chase sniffed, looking offended but Severus just shook his head. The last thing he needed was his son to stumble back into school half-drunk, from what he understood his parenting skills were in question as was. Chase sighed and went back to the papers he was grading and Severus couldn't help but notice that the scratching sound of quill tip on parchment began to increase.

Someone was about to take the brunt of Chase's frustration.

"How are your studies?"

"Top of my class, per usual." That was the norm. Severus wouldn't have stood for anything less than the best from his son, because he knew Chase could do it. The boy thought him harsh at times, but if they ever got a point where he thought Chase couldn't handle something, he'd back down.

They just hadn't come to that point yet.

"How's your puppy?"

"Siri is fine." Chase said, not bothering to argue the 'puppy' comment. Severus had nothing against Siri; he was actually very fond of the other teen, even though he loathed his parents. How Remus Lupin and Sirius Black had managed to spawn an intelligent, even-tempered and well-mannered child he would never understand. "Except for that whole getting expelled thing."

"Oh?" He was normally all of those things…but underneath Siri was a wolf. He did have claws and teeth when the situation called for it.

"Yes. One of the boys in my year made a comment about Brookridge only being for Purebloods and how Siri's werewolf heritage made him even worse than Muggle Borns and how the only thing worse than a werewolf, was a half-breed, because a half-breed was a waste of life."

Severus couldn't help but bristle slightly, since his own son was certainly not human. Part vampire, part nymph, part human, Chase was nothing short of a mutt. True, Brookridge Academy was an exclusively pureblood school, but in a technical sense Chase (and Siri) meet that requirement.

"And what did Siri do to him?" The elf was back, a silver tray in hand. "I suppose it'd be too much to hope this boy is missing vital organs."

"Nope, all of his insides are still inside. Barely. Siri tore a nice sized chunk of his arm off though. Very nice blood spray and splatter, in my opinion. It was fascinating to see him change like that. All teeth and claws and fur…"

"Don't drool on those essays."

Chase rolled his eyes, making a face at him. "I'm not drooling. Unless you think I've inherited your soft spot for wolves."

"I do not have a soft spot for any wolves." Severus said tone clipped. He handed the bowl of ice cream to the teen who balanced it carefully on his knee. "But it would seem Siri has inherited his father's temper."

"Really?" Chase asked, frowning. "I never took Remus for the angry, animalistic, throat tearing type of person."

Severus decided it best not to mention he'd been referring to Sirius Black, not Lupin, and instead nodded slightly. "You'd be surprised."

"But you wouldn't. I'm sure you've been privy to that side."

Severus ignored that, not willing to rise to the bait. Besides, there wasn't much of a point. He and Lupin had had their affair, though Chase had been little more than an baby at the time, and really wasn't worth mentioning now that Black had escaped from prison and was, according to Dumbledore anyway, an innocent man.

(But considering that Dumbledore had a hidden agenda, who could be sure?)

Lupin and Black were mates in all but the ceremony, which meant that Severus had, logically, not had a chance in hell with the werewolf. But he'd always been a glutton for punishment was far as his relationship choices went. He liked them dangerous and powerful, teetering on the edge of sanity and not winning the battle back over the ledge, not quite human and, in true masochistic form, wanting someone else.

Autumn had pledged herself to the Dark Lord, Lucius had, for better or worse, married Narcissa, and Lupin was forever bound to Black. He had been little more than a timely distraction for all three of them, when those they craved hadn't been around to sate their need, and found it didn't bother him as much as it probably should have.

He was strangely accustomed to coming second in the hearts of those he choose to lay with.

Chase was watching him closely, eyes narrowed in concentration. Severus was willing to bet he was trying to pick up on stray thoughts, as was the talent of their race of vampire. Chase wouldn't succeed, as his mind was kept under careful lock and key.

Plus Chase had never shown any telepathic ability. Severus doubted it would start to show this late in life.

"I was just wondering why I seem to chose lovers so unwisely."

"You like to fix people." Chase said, shrugging. He reached over and snagged his father's goblet. Snape watched, eyebrow going up, as he drizzled blood wine over the desert, the dark crimson clashing with the pale white.

And not for the first time Severus wondered what Dumbledore's golden boy would look like decorated in blood, thick crimson splashing over his delicate, pale skin. Skin cut apart carefully, so streams of red could run down, swirling patters over his body. He could almost imagine those cherry red lips parted and-

"Hey! Projecting directly into your impressionable teenage son's head here!"

Severus blinked mildly. "Sorry."

Though he would hardly call Chase impressionable. Severus didn't have a great fondness for children and had lucked out with his son, as Chase hadn't been a child for a terribly long time.

"Your Potter obsession is borderline creepy you know."

"I am not obsessed."

"Of course you are." Chase muttered, shaking his head. He put the goblet back down and stuck his spoon into the ice cream, mixing slowly. The colors mixed, soon becoming mostly pink with thin swirls of red and white. "I may not be able to read your mind, but I know you."

"Do you?"

"Yes." Chase glanced up at him from the corner of his eye. "I most certainly do. And, even if I didn't, remember, seer. The future is…its like a fairy tale, I heard when I was younger. It's all jumbled and confusing but…I still remember the key points."

That effectively gained Severus' attention. "And what are these key points?"

He smiled and Severus could see a hint of fang. "Well now that'd be telling. But you're obsessed, nonetheless. So what's up with this tournament thing?"

"It is, like most things that go on within Hogwarts, a sham. There is something going on, but I'm not aware of it yet. Any thoughts?"

"Not really. You know I don't really understand what I see until after the fact. I'd be happy to loan you my journal though, if you think you may be able to figure out what all of that stuff means." He shrugged in something close to apology. "What makes you think something is up?"

"Potter is one of the champions." The second task had just been completed and, as usual, Potter had risked his life to do the right and moral thing… Severus explained the first two tasks briefly, leaving out the fact he'd entertained the idea of tying Potter up and chaining him in the deepest cellar of this very manor, in order to ensure that he didn't do anything too stupid.

Chase laughed, spoon halfway to his mouth. "It all comes back to him doesn't it?"

"You make it seem as if I choose him. No, someone wants that idiot boy to break his foolish little neck and die, no doubt. And, being the imbecile that he is, he's run right into it head first, with Dumbledore supporting him all the way, as if it's nothing to worry himself over. And, in the meantime, Potter's grades grow steadily worse and he busies himself fighting with his friends."

"Sounds like typical teenage angst-ness to me."

"Because you're clearly typical."

"No, but I observe. All of the kids around me, save Siri, are getting rebellious, noticing the opposite sex, or same sex should that rub their wand, making new friends and ditching the old."

Severus considered that for a moment then shook his head tightly. "All of those children are not Potter. These children haven't had their lives threatened every year since they turned eleven."

"Maybe he's depressed." Chase suggested lightly. "All that stress…I mean, people are pretty much expecting him to save the world, but he's not even fifteen, and he certainly doesn't have the benefit of vampire maturity working for him."

"Perhaps."

"Maybe he wants to be dead." Chase continued, looking down at his nails, which were covered in deep red varnish. "I mean, if this challenge is everything I've heard about, this is probability one of the most surefire ways of killings ones self without any questions."

"Oh?"

"Yep. This thing isn't exactly a friendly Quidditch match. It reeks of death." He paused for a moment, eyes growing far away. "Mark my words father, someone will die before it's all over. Maybe more than one…" He blinked. "I don' know. It got all blurry again. I hate that."

"You are truly a fascinating child."

Chase smiled almost serenely and, not for the first time, Severus wondered how two such unrepentantly horrible and evil people could have made something so…mild. Not exactly good or pure, his vampire heritage made sure he'd never been pure, but far from capable of the evil his parents had taken pleasure in. No blood stained his hands.

"You're staring."

Severus sat back in his seat some. "Fascinating."

He slid down and, Severus could only assume it was on a whim because it wasn't something Chase had done in years, leaned over and kissed him, briefly. Then, with a slight smile, grabbed his bowl and started to walk away, undoubtedly heading for his room to spend the night, before going back to Brookridge in the morning to pursue his studies.

Then he paused and turned to look at him, eyes curious. "It's you."

"What's me?"

"You're the death in him. You marked him with death…with your touch…" His brow furrowed for a moment. "You…found the darkness in him. And now it wants you."

Severus wondered, as he choked on a breath he rarely needed to draw, if Chase deliberately choose the most effective words to drive his point home. He swallowed then rose, trying his infamous glower out on the young vampire. Judging by the way Chase looked at him, it wasn't working.

"What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean." Chase muttered. "Which is good, because I have _no_ idea. I'll see you in the morning." And with that he slipped out, undoubtedly well on his way to forgetting all about this little encounter. Severus watched him for a moment then sat down, corking the blood wine with a sigh, before calling for the house elf again.

"Brandy and a glass. Be quick."

He rubbed at his temples, sighing.

Labels. It all came back to labels. He'd been called a great many things, but 'Father' was still the one that gave him pause.


	3. Serenity Lost & Perpetual Bliss

Puppets

Yana: Nah. Snape wants to leave Harry alone, but something inside of him just won't allow it. He really wants to know what it is that makes Potter so damn special and, as vampires are prone to obsessive behavior, he can't stop himself.

Ar-Zimraphel: Chase is…well he isn't two-dimensional. I actually think he exists on the fourth or even fifth plane… You won't like the seer thing so much here…it gets a little…icky. And you don't Sev might be a little…nuts? I was, really, worried about how I wrote him. I wanted his thoughts to be 'dark' and borderline violent, but I wasn't sure how it'd go over and…I'm way off topic.

Hec: Danke.

Kateri: Thanks.

Saavik: He's less amusing in this part…

Starlett: I am 23 glorious years old. And the story is both simple and complex. I foreshadow, blatantly and in a subtle manner, a lot. And the world I crafted is complex…but it's by no means a hard story, unless you make it hard. I let my thirteen-year-old stepdaughter read it, and she understands it no problem, where as my husband will hours pouring over and taking notes…

Caido: lol. Well thank you.

And, on that note, dedicated to my husband Sam, who spends a ridiculous amount of time reading what I write, taking notes, and ensuring I don't contradict myself anywhere in the stories that go in this series. Wave to Sam folks, for without him who knows what may be going on.

And, last thing, English to Metric conversions suck. 15.6 degrees C is about 60 degrees F and normal Vampire temperature in my world.

Part three features Blood, the obvious and painful downside of being a seer, Foreshadowing, Light and Dark politics, and Lucius Malfoy. Part Three-Two is a short peek into how Snape affects Harry. It's…oh. R rated.

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Part Three

Serenity Lost

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He swept down the halls of Brookridge Academy, feeling the urge to strangle someone. An image of that idiot Ronald Weasley flitted through his mind, followed by a smirking Sirius Black. He had to confess the latter would be someone he enjoyed choking the life of and jarring his soul for later use…

He imagined that Lupin and Dumbledore would disapprove. And, while he didn't value Dumbledore's opinion that much, he found that he needed the werewolf's aid more these days.

Children scattered and his almost smiled, delighting in the fact that he struck fear not just in Hogwarts students, but in all students. Well, he should, he'd been doing it long enough.

He pushed the door to the infirmary open, ready to demand to see his son immediately, when the words left his mouth. Madam Neon, a young woman with bright pink hair, was talking to Headmaster Catalina in a very hushed voice. She normally had a bright aura, so bright that even Severus, who'd never been great at reading auras, could see its glow from nearly half a kilometer away.

But today her aura, which was as bright pink as her hair, was close to her body and very dim, almost flickering in and out. The headmaster was usually unreadable to him, but today his energy was almost black. The sight chilled him, because it meant things had to be worse than he thought.

Today wasn't a good day. The idiot Potter had, instead of getting himself killed, gotten a Hufflepuff boy murdered. True, Diggory hadn't been one of his brighter students, but he kept the younger kids in his house in line, with a certain…commanding air. Hufflepuff was going to be a lot more annoying because of him.

And Voldemort was back, of that there was no doubt. He'd felt the burn of the mark, but had forgone answering it, in favor of helping with the chaos at Hogwarts.

Be civil with Black indeed.

And then the owl from Brookridge, claiming he was needed at that moment and that it was too urgent to wait. He'd thought Chase was perhaps sick again, but now he wondered. Lately, as Chase had said, his visions were worsening, and as they did he got sicker. He had, for a week in March, been comatose and when he awoke totally unable to recall what he'd seen. Not that he particularly cared what Chase saw; he just wanted it to stop.

Neon's eyes flickered over to him and she straightened up, smoothing down her hair. "Sir-"

"Where is my son?"

"Master Snape, I…am loathe to make this request of you, but we must ask you…remove Chase from Brookridge, immediately. Permanently." Catalina said, swallowing in an effort to hide his fear. He failed, he stank of fear; it was a sweet smell normally, something that made his fangs drop in anticipation, but it was nothing short of putrid to him.

"Where is my son?" He kept his tone deadly quiet, trying to imagine Longbottom cowering before him, in order to maintain his calm. If he let himself be upset, someone may find themselves missing vital organs, and the Ministry frowned upon such things. And, as Longbottom was annoying but not worthy of homicide, it did sooth his beast some.

Not much though. It wanted to know where it's child was, wanted to make sure that these…sorry excuses for caregivers hadn't caused any lasting damage. Vampires were very den-loyal…once someone was accepted into the family, you would put your life on the line and die to save them. If someone dared to harm his son…

Well, the Ministry knew what could happen. They'd probably lock him in Azkaban until they deemed him 'safe' again and, considering Fudge that could very well be never.

"I understand you are anxious Master Snape, but I feel I must discuss Chase's worsening condition. You understand I am fond of your son and he always makes top marks but-"

Neon shrieked then fainted dead away, while Catalina squirmed. It took him a moment to realize his fangs had dropped, flaws slide out, and eyes most likely gone white with his rage. It took another moment before he noticed he had the headmaster a good six inches off of the ground, pinned to the wall by his throat.

His voice was a low hiss. "If I have to request again-"

A shrill scream made his monster howl in outrage. He dropped Catalina and headed for the scream, which came from a door in the very back of the infirmary. He opened it and looked around. There were four beds in the room, but only one was occupied. The curtains had been drawn to keep out sunlight, and the lone occupant was as far from the window as possible, to be cautious.

Fine, so they weren't totally incompetent. But damn close.

He walked over and crouched next to the bed. Pale eyes stared at him, sunken into a drawn and worn face. He could tell, just by looking, that Chase hadn't feed properly in well over two weeks.

Wrong again. They were that bloody incompetent. He'd have their flesh…he'd fed them to the den. He'd let his and Chase's family tear them apart for this offense, and then he'd buy the school and have it burned to the ground and-

"Daddy?"

He frowned, leaning closer. He hadn't heard that in…years. Many many years. Chase, while an affectionate child, had decided early on that 'Father' suited him better than 'Daddy'.

The smell of illness clung to the teen like a fog, and it was rancid. He reached and touched Chase, not at all prepared for the heat that radiated from him. Chase was, by his nature, cool to the touch. To a human he would seem cold even now, maybe 20 degrees, but to Snape he felt like he was on fire.

"I can hear him, in my head." Chase whispered, voice hoarse. "He's coming to take over. He's going to kill so many people…so many. Never seen…make it stop. Make it go away."

He didn't ask whom, he already had a good idea. Voldemort was back and Chase was seeing what was bound to happen. He picked the boy up effortlessly, trying not to sigh when Chase curled into him.

Part of him remembered when Chase had been a baby, so…tiny. He certainly wasn't that small now, but he was much too light for his personal comfort.

Chase saw a great many things, but the death that Voldemort could, and would, cause wasn't something he needed to see.

Severus said a simple spell and in a manner of moments he held a sleeping vampire.

This was going to be a problem.

-----------------------

"Severus-"

The Hogwarts infirmary now. Chase was curled up in a bed far from the many windows and Pomfrey had even taken the extra precaution of putting a Sunblocking spell around the bed. She had asked if he wanted Chase looked over but he'd dismissed the idea. He appreciated the offer, as Pomfrey was one of the few people in Hogwarts he could stand, but he doubted she could do much.

There wasn't any reason for her to put herself through the effort. She, like him, once given a problem would see it all the way through and didn't admit defeat. She'd been his greatest help when developing the Wolfsbane potion, and he'd grown to respect her, if not for that then for the help she'd given when he'd come to Hogwarts with an infant son in tow.

She was attached to Chase and, judging by the way she was sitting next to his bed speaking to him softly, would try to do something in spite of his refusal.

"No Albus." He shook his head, letting his eyes drift over to Potter. Save Molly Weasley he was the only occupant of the room and, thankfully, fast asleep. No reason for him to see his loathed Potions Master arguing with the Saintly Headmaster. Mrs. Weasley, who was sipping a cup of tea, however was listening openly.

He supposed she thought he didn't deserve even the courtesy of pretending not to eavesdrop on his conversations.

"You must go to Voldemort now. Any longer and-"

"And what? I assure you Voldemort isn't going anywhere."

"If you tarry to long he might not accept you back." Dumbledore said, frowning severely.

He couldn't help it. He growled at the man, teeth bared. He felt more than saw Chase shift and look at him, head tilted off to the side in that curious way of his. He let his eyes flicker over to Mrs. Weasley, who had set her cup down and was watching them. Then back to Dumbledore, who just blinked. His eyes had lost their usual good-humored twinkle and were now deathly calm.

"Severus-"

"My son is sick. I do not care if Voldemort is breaking down the walls of Hogwarts brick by damnable brick; let him do it. My debt to you is no way involves allowing my son to suffer."

Dumbledore was pushing the bounds of his loyalty, such as it was. Family outweighed a debt, blood or otherwise, every time and, if need be, he would snap the man's neck for trying to stop him. Powerful wizard or not, killing a vampire wasn't something he could do. The killing curse would hit, and hurt, but it wouldn't kill. Nothing short of beheading, direct sunlight for hours at a time, or burning was going to do it.

(Of course a steak through the heart would as well, but logically what wouldn't die if it got stabbed through the heart?)

Vampires, much like Werewolves, Veelas, and Dark Nymphs, were creatures of Dark Magic, a part of whatever it was that made magic dark and powerful. So Dark Magic wouldn't kill them and, to be honest, was more likely to back fire upon its user.

Darkness didn't like being pitted against its children.

Dumbledore knew it; his eyes were dark and considering.

"Albus." Mrs. Weasley stood up, glancing down at Harry for a moment, then strode over to them. "It seems to me that if Professor Snape were to leave his son, if his state is as bad as Poppy and he think, that he-who-shall-not-be-named would be suspicious. Magical creatures on this plane never leave their families in need, that breaks one of the few codes all creatures have in common. Leaving his son will most likely get him killed."

He stared at her and she winked at him, before walking over to Chase's bed. The teen blinked up at her, then a non-sickness related blush spread over his cheeks as she began to fuss over him in a manner similar to how she clucked over Potter.

He had the sudden feeling there was much more to the Weasley clan, or at least to their mother, than it seemed.

Then again, she was distantly related to Black, and it was common knowledge that the Black family held more magical creature blood than any other Wizarding family. He had always thought it ironic that Black himself had ended up painfully human in comparison to the likes of Narcissa and Regulus.

"Well, it appears I am outnumbered." Dumbledore said jovially, clapping his hands together. Severus, however, could detect an underlying edge of fury to his tone. He was very upset that his chess game was speaking back to him and making decisions without his say so. Severus found he rather didn't care.

"I'll be taking Chase back to the manor. I'll be back for classes as soon as possible."

"When Chase is feeling less ill, I would like to discuss his visions with him."

"No." Severus hissed, eyes narrowing.

"I don't see why not." Which meant 'How do you plan to stop me?' "They could be beneficial to us and, if nothing else, better me than Voldemort."

He had to bite his tongue from saying how that was debatable, but instead walked around the man. Mrs. Weasley moved aside and let him have her spot on the edge of the bed, before flashing him a wide smile.

"If you don't mind me saying, I wish my twins and Ron were more like your son. He was telling me about how he's fairing at Brookridge, top of all of his classes."

Severus stared at her for a moment, not sure how to respond. He had the feeling this was some sort of peace offering on her part. He nodded slowly, unconsciously reaching out and smoothing Chase's hair down.

"The twins could, easily, be at the top of their class. They've chosen…other outlets." The look on her face said she knew that all too well. "And I believe, were Ronald so inclined to study instead of breaking every school rule he encounters…he would do well. I have taught every Weasley for at least two years and none have been short of brilliant."

In fact he'd been rather fond of the elder three, especially William. He had, unlike most Gryffindors, had a knack for Potions. Charles had put forth an effort and his marks had been above that of most Slytherins. But Percy had…worried him to a certain degree. He'd studied, made perfect marks, but had seemed to do it all with a listless disconnected air. He'd known the answers, made every potion correctly…yet had never understood any of it.

Fred and George however…if they weren't such troublemakers, they may have been his prized students. They put everything together perfectly, and not just in potions, but their various pranks as well…

Ginny followed after her oldest brothers, but Ron was a different matter altogether.

Mrs. Weasley smiled, obviously appreciating his words. Then her smile turned serious. "Professor should you need…a place for Chase to go, while you…work, our home may be a touch noisy and crowded at times, but there is always room for one more."

He wondered if he looked as surprised as he felt. He opened his mouth to say something, but was jarred from any thoughts of pleasantries by a scream from Chase. He didn't need to look to know what happened next, so he looked at the wall instead.

Chase's body would go rigid for a moment, then twist and jerk, in ways that looked almost as painful as they surely felt, as he succumbed to a seizure. His eyes would go white then roll up into his head. He would thrash violently and, depending on how bad it was, blood would begin to flow from his nose. He'd bruise himself from the force of his movements, and be sore and aching for days.

There was a crash, of a pitcher falling, and water splashed the floor. Severus turned and, frowning, pinned the teen's wrists to the bed above his head. Chase let out a low keening cry, fighting against him, but his movements were hindered. He wouldn't break anything else, except maybe his wrists if Severus wasn't careful.

Mrs. Weasley stepped back, hand going to her mouth. Even Dumbledore looked startled, which was quite an achievement, since the man seemed to know everything that went on. Only Poppy, who was used to such things by now, didn't react. She reached over for a bucket, waiting for the inevitable.

And then he saw it. This was hardly the first time he'd held Chase to keep him from hurting himself but…he'd never seen anything before. Those psychic abilities he was sure Chase lacked cracked through his, admittedly low, shields.

It was a battlefield. Hogwarts lay, crumbling and smoking, just visible in the distance. The forest was in flames; Hagrid's hut was as well. Animals could be heard crying in the distance, pain for those lost, and rage at the destruction of their home.

And in the center of it all stood Voldemort, triumphant. There were people at his side, people that perhaps were important, but shadowed from his view. He could count them however, five of them. Two…three women, and two men.

And then it rippled.

A girl with light brown skin and brown curls, with just a hint of red when the sun hit them, sat in front of…miss-matched building, a sketchpad in hand. She had a blue jumper, with a white P on it. An explosion and the girl was swept up by a man, who held a wand and

Lead an army. It stretched behind him, like a wave in the ocean frozen in motion, waiting for his order. Gray-blue eyes glittered dangerously in the darkness.

He gasped, finally putting his block back into place. What in the hell was that?

"half-blood prince." The words left his lips, but he had to confess he had no idea what the hell they meant. He jerked back and put a hand to his head. Ouch…

And then, as suddenly as it begun it was over. In a manner of speaking. Chase took the bucket and, with tears the color of blood running down his face, retched. The smell of old blood, mixed with acid, was strong enough that his eyes started to water.

But he didn't move. He just rubbed the teen's back, suddenly reminded of when he'd do this for the boy's mother. Chase glanced at him sideways, eyes blurry, before falling back onto the bed and curling up. Poppy took the bucket and walked off.

"Severus, what did you see?"

Severus eyed the man for a moment, considering. To tell the truth wouldn't be particularly beneficial to him or Chase, as it might reinforce Dumbledore's idea of using the teen. Lying on the other hand would surely help him in the long run, as he'd have a few pieces of information that Dumbledore wasn't privy to.

It would be…interesting to see how the game played out if one of the chess pieces knew more about what going on in the game, knew the other players final move, while his 'master' was totally oblivious to it.

"I don't know. It was jumbled."

Dumbledore looked…deflated, as if he'd been hoping for something fantastic, only to have the idea crushed beneath his feet.

Severus smirked. And so the pawn finally sees part of the game, even if only a few squares.

He felt eyes on him and turned; meeting green eyes so bright they almost…burned him. Harry Potter was watching him from the safety of his bed, head cocked to the side in a silent question. He really shouldn't have done it, but today was shaping up to be the worst day he'd had in a long while, so he sent an image of Potter on a bed, head tilted back in pleasure, underneath him.

And watched as the boy turned bright red all the way to the tip of his ears and turned away, pulling his covers back up to his neck.

Almost as amusing as failing an entire class of Gryffindors.

---------------------------

Lucius Malfoy was, most likely, the only person who could rival Voldemort and Dumbledore when it came to sheer power of manipulation. Severus was far from surprised to find the man, and Draco Malfoy, in his parlor the weekend after the resurrection of Voldemort.

"Severus."

"Lucius." He let his eyes drop to the blond teen. "Draco. Chase is upstairs in his room. I doubt he'd mind your company; he's been confined to his bed for quite sometime. Tell Lady Snape it's fine to leave you alone if you wish."

Lady Snape being his sister Selena. She'd come over the moment the Den had been notified of Voldemort's return. She wasn't really fond of, as she put it 'his bastard mutt', but she had no desire to be in charge of the Den, ever, and wanted Chase as healthy as possible for as long as possible. (To be honest he wasn't really fond of her either, but he would have to return to Hogwarts and Chase was going to need a tutor for a time…)

Draco nodded then walked out. Draco and Chase, though of similar backgrounds, didn't get along as well as they could have. Why that was he wasn't sure, but he found he didn't mind as much as some might have thought he would.

After all, he distinctly recalled losing his virginity in one of Hogwarts hidden rooms to Lucius Malfoy and Autumn Pryce… it may have been idealistic, but he'd prefer if Chase had a better experience and Draco was a watered down version of his father.

"He's been wondering about you Severus. You felt the mark."

"It was rather hard to miss."

"You didn't come."

"Obviously."

"Why?"

"Chase is ill."

Lucius' eyes narrowed, becoming almost like chips of ice. "And you think that's an excuse for not answering his call."

"Doesn't the fact I wasn't there give you the answer to that question?" He wasn't so…flippant on purpose, but he wasn't afraid of Lucius. Undoubtedly he should be, Lucius wasn't a man who should ever be taken lightly by anyone, but he had once been the man's lover. It was hard to be intimidated by one he knew inside and out, from the taste of his skin to the taste of his blood.

"And you think He'll accept that?"

"He'll have to." Severus sighed. "Ask Narcissa about these matters Lucius, one never leaves their child in pain. Not even for the likes of Voldemort."

"So you compare yourself to a woman?" Lucius sneered. "I see parenthood has turned you weak."

"Hardly. Narcissa is by far more man than the vast majority of men in England. There is no shame in comparing myself to her."

Now Narcissa Malfoy…there was a woman to be feared. She was cold and ruthless, with a cruel and careful mind, which, and this is what made her so deadly, she only used for her son's benefit. She would let nothing get in the way of making Draco a figure to be reckoned with…

Next to Dumbledore, Narcissa was probably what Lucius and Voldemort should fear most. If they were a threat to Draco they would find themselves eliminated.

Lucius seemed to be considering that so he continued. "You know your wife isn't weak, or else you wouldn't have married her, and you wouldn't parade all of your affairs before her, for her approval." And this was true. That was why he and Lucius had ended, Narcissa hadn't approved of him. "How is young Blaise by the way?"

Lucius growled at him. "My affairs are-"

"None of my concern, I'm sure. I just wonder what buggering your son's best friend does to your family. I also wonder if Narcissa is aware of all of the expensive trinkets you shower him with and that he spends weekends in your home in New Zealand." A place he remembered well. "I wonder if she knows you value him higher than your son."

Lucius stiffened. Yes, he'd struck a nerve. If Narcissa knew of his obvious affection for Blaise, the teen would find himself very much…dead, for daring to put Draco second place in his father's eyes. And if Lucius was wary of such a thing, than Draco truly had taken a lesser role in favor of his best friend.

Politics had always fascinated him, and not just because he'd hand a mind for them. As Figurehead for the Scottish Den, he had to know a thing or two about inter-vampire politics, so it went without saying he'd be able to grasp the way things worked. But he actually enjoyed it.

It was like chess. Which explained quite a bit.

The blonde's lips pressed into a thin line. "What shall I tell Him?"

"Tell him my son has taken ill, much like his mother used to do."

"The visions." Lucius murmured, eyes growing bright. "It would do to have a seer in our fold again you know."

"I would sooner allow Dumbledore to use him." Severus said mildly. "You and He and Albus will do well to remember that my son is off limits."

"Speaking of Albus, you do work for him-"

"He would like me to rejoin the fold and pass him information."

"Shall you?"

"Of course." Severus said, trying to make his tone indicate it should be obvious. "I would think I'd be doing the same for Him."

"A double spy. You did always crave to be more complex than you were." Lucius said coolly. "You're much like His little rat that way."

"I'd like to think I'm not quite that transparent." This was, and always had been, Lucius' problem. (Well, beyond deriving pleasure from vampire bites, but that was something else completely.) He was arrogant, and placed himself so far above the rest of the world that he missed the subtle workings of the world.

He thought him transparent and simple. Lucius was, in that respect, sadly mistaken.

"I know what you'll do. You take bits and pieces to Dumbledore, then bring back bits to us, and when the war is over whichever side wins will be in your debt, no matter your double dealings."

"No." He smirked and shook his head.

"Then what of it Severus? What goes on in that unnatural mind of yours?"

"If I told you, it'd ruin the game." And Lucius did love a game.

The blond stared at him for a moment then a small smile quirked his lips. Severus knew, by sight alone, what was on Lucius' mind far before the lust tickled his nose. He refrained from rolling his eyes and instead indicated for Lucius to follow him.

It's not like he minded the occasional tryst with Lucius. The man had a distinctly…intoxicating taste to him.

Besides, this too was politics, Lucius' way of saying that Severus was his, not Voldemort's.

Another facet of his arrogance, for a vampire belonged to no one.

And he wondered why he thought of burning emerald eyes when he thought that.

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Part Three, Section Two

Perpetual Bliss

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Harry sat on his bed in the Gryffindor Tower, considering things. Well…more to the point, he was considering his Potions Master. Ever since the summer dreams of the man had plagued his mind, each more dark and troubling that the last.

And not dark and troubling in that Snape was evil and torturing people, but…in the fact that he _liked _the dreams. Even looked forward to them in a way. They were also…well, they excited him is ways he was sure a man old enough to be his father wasn't supposed to excite him.

It had started with a dream that now he could just barely recall. The barest strains of it clung to his brain, like a song that couldn't quite be forgotten and cropped up at thoroughly inappropriate moments. He knew a kiss, and not a kiss he asked for or even particularly wanted, until those deathly cold lips were on his, and that mouth was stealing his breath and…

It was taken from him, the kiss. He had no control over it, couldn't say yes or no, could do anything except accept and respond.

And after that the dreams had become…increasingly…he couldn't think of a word that quite described what he'd been seeing. It wasn't like the dreams he had about Cho, those were all sweet and soft and…kind of vague. Harry had a general idea of what to do with a girl, but his aunt and uncle had never gotten around to giving him the 'talk'.

What little he did know came from listening to Dudley and his friends, and he had to admit he doubted them as a source of accurate information. For the life of him he couldn't imagine what a cucumber had to do with anything…

Nonetheless, lack of knowledge aside, his dreams about Cho are what he'd call…normal. A nice beautiful girl, exotic in a way, and the things he supposed you did with girls.

His drams about Snape were a different matter all together. Those were rough and…seemed to pull at him, demanding more and more of his mind. They penetrated deep, tearing away at his mind, touching parts of him he wouldn't have expected. Parts of him that wanted darkness and delighted in imaging the pain someone like Snape could cause him.

And they were graphic. He didn't know where the knowledge came from or how it got into his mind, but it was very much there, and every dream seemed just a little more real to him.

The touch of Snape's hands, calloused and rough, against his skin, nails digging into his skin and drawing blood, which trailed down his skin. The harsh rasp of tongue and…

He shivered, drawing his knees up to his chest.

He imagined touches in places, and feelings so intense they threatened to pull him in and drown him, never letter go, that he never would have thought to…have touched. He could feel the pleasure, with the edge of pain, just enough to make him wish for more.

And even the coppery taste of blood in his mouth was painfully clear to him.

The dreams were causing him to wonder about Snape, wonder about the teacher who did nothing but try and drive him mad. Something in his ached to know…know everything.

And he'd gotten…a taste of knowledge while in the infirmary. He'd thought Snape a heartless…being that sort of existed, floating the hall of Hogwarts aimlessly, with no life beyond crushing the spirits of his students.

But he had a son, or at least that's whom Mrs. Weasley had identified the boy as.

Harry had woken to a scream. At first he'd thought it was another nightmare, that the scream had been his head, but then he realized the scream was very much real and came from a boy, smaller than even he was, across from him and trashing around in one of the beds.

The pain that radiated from that body had been so thick Harry had thought for a moment that he could reach out and caress it.

Snape had, when the boy was sitting up and emptying his stomach in a bucket, held the boy, totally heedless to anyone that may have seen it. He had looked…almost kind. And caring. But then he'd caught Harry staring and an image of them, tangled intimately, had come unbidden to his mind and he'd looked away and, eventually, gone back to sleep.

When he awoke Snape and the boy were both gone.

But now he knew something. A pearl of knowledge.

And he wanted more.


	4. Darkness

Puppets

Star: Nope, twasn't at all offended. No worries. Glad some things have been cleared up, though what they are I couldn't begin to imagine. I'm still confused.

Pure Black: Weird is my middle name you know… Well, actually it's Charmaine Denise, but in a figurative type of way.

Yana: Pretty much…

Kat: Only this is the last part of the 'Puppets' arc, I'm afraid. There is, of course, follow up, but it isn't ready for posting yet.

Luna: My husband doesn't check for spelling and grammar, he's more of a note taker. The world I've created is kind of extensive and I get distracted/confused easily so he keeps it in order for me.

Lis: Um. A while. Because Dumbledore would behead Snape if he caught him screwing around with his Golden Boy and Snape likes his head just where it is, you know?

Buttercup: Yeah, making you want more is all part of my sinister plot! Draw you in then string you along. Cause I'm evil. Yep.

Dani: …eh. Soon is a very relative term you know.

Debz and Sevvie Fan: Uh. Thanks. All interesting suggestions that, perhaps, you should try to write. I doubt Harry will ever be a vampire in this series.

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Part the Fourth

Darkness

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Snape paced the length of his office, considering the events of the past year. Things had more or less gone to hell in a hand basket. Sirius Black was very much dead, Remus Lupin was in the first stages of the Withering, Siri Lupin had vanished from sight, and Lord Voldemort was starting to call his allegiances into question.

Which was stupid, because he had no allegiances and Voldemort should have known that some time ago. He did what was best for him because he was an inherently selfish man. He cared very little, if at all, for who won in the short term as long as he came out on top in the long term. He had too much common sense to think for a second that the fight between 'Light and Dark' was ever going to end. Hell, he knew there weren't even really a light and a dark.

That was Dumbledore's greatest lie. The myth of Light and Dark, Good and Evil when in fact there were only various shades of gray. Yes he'd been versed in so called Dark Magics, but what made them dark? The ability to harm, to kill or the fact that he drew on darker parts of his soul to make the magic work perhaps?

Was being in touch with your less 'inspiring' qualities an evil thing? Was knowing that you held darkness in your heart and sometimes wanted to hurt others a bad thing? Did that make one evil?

Not really. A true wizard, one who knew how to wield their power to the fullest, understood that you had to truly know yourself. And not just the Ministry approved self who did benign magic so as not to alarm anyone, but your inner demons as well. If you didn't understand, control, and wield your demons correctly they could consume you.

Instead of controlling them they would control you. And then what the hell were you? Some pathetic…being, ruled by what you feared and hated instead of what you could achieve if you could just harness your ability and wield it like something other than a sniveling fearful coward.

That was Dumbledore and Voldemort's real problem. They let their demons control them; Dumbledore's fear of anyone more powerful than him destroying his perfect lie and Voldemort's desire to prove that his heritage didn't make him unworthy. Their fears made them who they were and that was why they would forever be weak.

Weakness was a big thing in the wizarding world. Everyone was so ready for a quick fix; a flick of the wand and everything would be better again. No one appreciated the slow burn of a potion, the effectiveness or herbs and plants, or the quiet, but very real, power of a ritual.

He knew he had darkness inside of him, bubbling away and twining around his soul. He was far from a fool and, as such, knew it was better to accept what he was and let the darkness flow through him rather than burn through him like a poison.

Pettigrew was a fine example of darkness like poison. His stupid friends had made him shun his darker urges, forced him to lock part of his soul in a deep dark corner and, eventually, it seeped out, breaking down his walls like a tidal wave and pulling him under, only to pull him away in the current.

It was like the Forbidden Curses. Most people couldn't really wield them correctly, even if they weren't forbidden from using them. You had to have the urge, the drive and will, behind your spell to make it work. If you didn't truly want to do harm, control, or kill the one you cast against the effect would be rather uninspiring.

But that was the thing they didn't teach you in school. No one mentioned harnessing rage and using it productively, because Rage was dark and black and a sickness.

"Father." Chase was standing in the doorway of his office, a strand of two-toned hair falling into his face. Chase wasn't big on rebellion so when he'd decided to turn his hair white he'd simply snorted and allowed it, finding the contrast of cinnamon and blond interesting. When he'd started piercing his ears he'd just allowed it.

It was a mildly productive way of harming himself at least.

Chase was a dark creature, as was he. They were born in touch with their darker halves, scratching away at their surface and demanding release. They couldn't deny what they were even if they wanted to. But at the same time he wasn't all darkness, he had overwhelming light inside of him as well.

Sometimes Severus swore he could feel the boy shattering from the inside as the light and darkness warred inside of him, unable (or perhaps unwilling) to find a balance. Why that was he didn't know. He wasn't the only Daywalker to be born, 'Walkers being the product of vampire unions with light non-dark creatures or humans, but for some odd reason there was simply no ability to achieve harmony inside of him.

He suffered for it. More than just his body slowly but surely failing him, with each increasingly powerful vision, and the images that controlled his mind. No, his soul suffered as well, falling apart at the seams with every moment. And he hurt himself. And what could Severus do but watch him wither away now, unable to do anything other than watch it?

He'd tried potion after potion to stave off the images and heal his son's body but they all proved to be temporary at best. The unconscious periods lasted longer, becoming comas. He could be unconscious for a month now and it wouldn't have been surprising.

Feeding was more difficult than ever. His body tried to heave anything that came in contact with it and he was just so…fractured.

"Chase." He said mildly, eyeing the teen. Small, he was just so…small. His jumper and jeans hung off of his thin frame almost obscenely. This wasn't the body of the child of a master vampire, but of a sickly child. "What's wrong?"

"Why do you watch him?" His voice was soft, barely above a whisper. Not to create some kind of air but because his throat was too torn to withstand much else. It seemed he was always trying to rid himself of what he put in, heaving until his throat was raw and he was crying from the pain.

"Who?"

"Potter." He muttered, frowning. "I can hear you leave each night and you come back smelling of…England. They tell me where you go; I can see it."

"I go…because he intrigues me." Wasn't that it? The darkness in his eyes, the blood that followed in the wake of 'Harry Potter', the illusion of purity he put up around himself and the faux happiness he constructed to show to others.

The subtle but obvious way he pushed others back as if there was a psychical presence around him, and the way the shadows on his face grew longer at night. The purse of his lips, pink and almost untouched, when he thought…

It was all intriguing to him.

"His darkness reaches for you. The taint in him." Chase said, eyes lighting up in understanding. "It wants you to reveal it. True power awaits the combining of light and dark. To triumph you must…get under his skin, crawl inside."

He arched an eyebrow, ignoring the less than pure implications of his son's words. "How…delightfully cryptic."

"I try." Chase said lightly while walking towards him. He leaned over his desk, eyes shadowed, then inhaled sharply. "I can almost taste the tears he leaves. You hold him when he cries and then you wipe his memory away."

He just sat back in his chair. It was true. He would creep in through the window, as if he was in some terribly cliché Muggle vampire movie, and sit on the edge of the teen's bed, usually just in time to see a nightmare begin. The first nights he'd watched. Then he'd begun to weave his web, setting the teen at ease. It seemed almost painful to watch him twisting and whimpering in some invisible terror.

A few nights ago he'd woken up and stared at him with green eyes so dark they were nearly black and…he'd faltered. The web had shattered like thin spindles of glass, sparkling in the moonlight around them. Potter should have screamed or cried out or at least asked him what the hell he was doing.

But he'd done none of that. He'd just cried. Curled up against his side, unaffected by how stiff he was, and sobbed until he was once again sleeping. And he'd let him. Night after night he allowed it because…because it made him closer.

Made him apart of Harry's life, the routine, the norm. It gave him something…leverage perhaps, or an insight if one wanted to call it that.

It was like manipulation, taking advantage of the naive boy who only thought he knew of the creatures that bumped in the night. Wouldn't know that Severus longed to see blood on those pale lips and sip the life from him… Had no idea that lips, colder than that of a human, touched his cheeks and carried away salty tears, not completely unlike blood.

Not now anyway.

He nodded slowly. "And what of it?"

"Voldemort knows." Chase's eyes slipped to half-mast and seemed to almost glow in the darkness. "He knows and he's coming for you and for him and for me."

Severus sighed, lips quirking bitterly. "Brilliant."

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Shall be continued in 'Mad Season', which will…pop up eventually.


	5. The End

Puppets

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Five  
The End  
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Chase was sitting on his desk, legs swinging back and forth as he watched the door swing open. His father walked through, lips drawn into a frown. He blinked, appearing startled at the sight of his son, then rolled his eyes.

"What're you doing here?" Here being Hogwarts. Chase hadn't been back since his last attack at Brookridge and Snape had intended to keep it that way. He didn't trust Dumbledore and didn't want him any where near his son, especially since the old coot had forced Chase to spy on the vampire clans for him. (1)

"Sirius is gone" Chase's fingers were tracing small circles on the top of his desk. His hair was still platinum blond at the tips, but the red had mostly overtaken it, and his eyes were more pink then gray…in fact they were bloodshot. Not to mention puffy.

Snape sneered and shut his door with a solid _thump_. "You were crying over Black? You barely knew the man Chase and you should be glad for it."

Chase looked away from him and his hair caused his eyes to fall into shadow. "What in the world makes you think I'm crying for Sirius? His death is only temporary."

That gave Snape a moment's pause. He'd stopped in his progress to the liquor cabinet he kept hidden in the classroom and stared at the redhead. He couldn't have just said what Snape thought he had said. "Temporary?"

"Mmhmm." A distracted nod. Snape sighed and fell into his chair with a curse and a petulant air that would give most of his students pause. After all, Professor Snape, most feared teacher in all of Europe, sulking around dramatically and pouting?

Unheard of.

"Of course it is. Lupin and Black are destined to outlive me if for no other reason that to see me driven mad. I was hoping I'd only have to deal with one of them."

Chase snorted then waggled a long finger in his face almost condescendingly. "Oh you were not. I know you better than that Father, so perhaps you should tell that terrible story to one of your naïve little students. You may not like Remus but you love him. You've loved him since you were in school. I know it, you know it, and Remus knows it."

"Through no fault of my own, I assure you." Perhaps he should have gotten that drink while he was up.

As if sensing his thoughts Chase pushed himself up and off of the desk then walked over to the bookcase. He grabbed the bottom edge and pulled it away from the bar to reveal a small stock of various bottles. Some held standard liquors and spirits (2) as well as a few blood wines, and other forms of alcohol aged with blood.

If he hadn't been a vampire and thus impervious to certain human vices he may have suspected he was an alcoholic. Hiding the stuff all of his classrooms and quarters wasn't exactly the most promising of signs.

Chase walked back over, a glass in hand. Snape was tempted to ask what it was then, after realizing he was about to engage in a conversation he no doubt didn't want to engage in, sighed and just drank it down.

"So about Black's temporary death?"

"Hmm? Oh, that. Not to worry, Remus will handle it. It's not important to us."

"Return from the death is very important."

"Why? Supposedly we defy death just by breathing. Not that we breathe often." He paused, scratching the back of his neck. "Does that mean we only defy death some of the time?"

"Chase."

"Oh. Sorry." He blushed then pulled his legs up onto the desk. Snape watched as the boy got into what he assumed was a 'comfortable' position before reaching over and gathering up his papers to protect them from harm. "I was… I don't understand what we are."

He arched an eyebrow at the sudden change in topic. "What we are?"

"Yeah. Are we dead, the damned, descendents of creatures escaped from the very bowels of hell to cause havoc and pain on earth? Can you be born dead?"

"No, maybe, not to my knowledge, and yes, but you wouldn't be a vampire. You'd be dead." He swirled his drink around, considering the questions posed to him. "According to Wizards and Muggles we're all of those things, but it simply isn't true. It's a virus, like what makes Lupin a werewolf. It makes breathing unnecessary, slows the heart so it seems to not beat at all and because of that the blood doesn't move in our systems. That's why we steal it. Without blood we would die, as would most things. We fall victim to blood lust and blood drunkenness but beyond that are unflawed.

"It's inherited of course, but can also be passed through the exchange of fluids. Blood works best. Many believe Vampires cannot breed because we're supposedly dead but that's far from the case, as you should already know. When two Vampires breed they will always make a Vampire child. If a Vampire breeds with a human you have a pure Daywalker. Not as strong as a Vampire, but resistant to even direct sunlight, the need for blood, and blood highs. If a Vampire mates with a non-human who isn't a dark creature you have a Tainted Daywalker. It's usually just a mix of whatever races its parents were." He stared pointedly at Chase who nodded his understanding. "If a Vampire mates with another dark creature chances are a Daemon will result. Some people call them Dark Nymphs but that's the exact truth and one most people can't grasp. They're the most powerful of Dark Creatures because of their background; Mixed but pure at the same time."

"Thomas is a Daemon."(3)

"Who?" Snape asked almost distractedly.

"Dean Thomas." His head was tilted off to the side and his voice had gained an almost dreamy quality to it. "A Daemon. Interesting boy that one is. So we aren't dead?"

"Dean Thomas? The Gryffindor? The Muggle born? Are you insane?"

"Yes, Yes, Yes, and sometimes." He got a cheeky wink before Chase waved his hand dismissively. "We aren't dead?"

"If we were dead we wouldn't be walking and talking." Snape said, trying to make it as simple to follow as possible.

"Mm." Chase sighed and turned away. Again his head was bowed and his face was no longer visible. The distress seemed to roll off of him in thick waves. Snape, who'd never been particularly good at comforting his son or things of that matter, coughed uncomfortably.

"Chase-"

"Sorry Father. Didn't mean to… It's just…if we aren't dead then we can die."

Snape blinked. "Of course. All things die eventually. That's just the nature of what we are."

A drop of blood hit the desk. It was old blood, stagnate and foul, and held no appeal. He reached out, discomfort forgotten in an instant, and turned Chase's face so he could look at the teen. Cherry tears shimmered from beneath long lashes.

Blood tears.

"What-"

"The world is spinning out of control and I can see it all so clearly it's like I can…bloody well reach out and hold the people that I see, but then I can't actually do anything about it!" He shook out of Snape's grasp and seemed to pull in on himself. "People are dying in my head and I close my eyes and I used to dream things and think about other things but now that's all I see and I can never see myself. There is no future for me."

Snape tried his best to scoff. "Of course there is."

"Are you listening?" Chase's eyes narrowed in a very un-Chase way. "I have no future and I know this because I've seen what comes next and everything that I've ever wanted is just…crumbling at my feet, under my finger tips, and I. Can't. Stop. It. What's the point of having this…gift or curse or power if I can't stop anything?"

Snape leaned back in his chair and took a deep drink from his glass. A question he had asked himself many a time. He was a Potions Master unmatched in most of the world, his knowledge of Dark Magicks would make most people wet themselves, and he had an army of vampires perfectly willing to fight and die for him and his son at his command and…

What did it all mean really? What was the point of the knowledge and the power if you couldn't even save the ones who mattered to you? He wasn't much for long drawn out philosophical musings of course, he preferred to leave those to the fashionably depressed teenagers that wandered the halls of Hogwarts, but sometimes he wondered.

"The Gods undoubtedly find it amusing to watch mortals, and immortals, suffer." Not the most positive thought to grave his son with, but truly the most honest one he could manage.

"Is that why you watch him?"

"Watch who?" Though he already had a good idea of whom Chase meant. There was only one person he bothered with besides his son and godson and he really didn't want to go into why it was that he let himself be bothered at all.

"Potter of course." Chase's look was somewhere between amused and scathing. The redhead was really quite infuriating when he knew too much. Which was, coincidently, all of the damn time.

"What makes you think I still watch Potter?" He hadn't allowed Potter to touch him since the conversation with Chase a few months before. It didn't bother him that the teen knew of his nighttime hobbies, exactly, but at the same time there were things no child should know.

Not even his.

"Because I know you." His lips quirked almost ruefully. "We've had this conversation before you know. You go, every night, through the passage that leads to the Gryffindor dorms. She showed it to you when you were in school, so you could see her. Only now you watch him. Watch the night terrors, and the crying, and the way he stares off vacantly at nothing. You might as well hold him again, it's not like not doing it makes me oblivious.

"I don't know why you try to hide anyway."

"He's younger than you are." Not that this little fact meant anything. Age to Vampires was very different than it was to humans. Snape was quickly approaching middle age to humans but was barely a teenager to his clan.

Really…he shouldn't have allowed Potter to occupy so much of his time. Chase had been right, Voldemort suspected him now more than ever. And Dumbledore seemed to be teetering on the edge of control these days, clinging desperately to his little chess pieces.

With Black dead and Lupin drawing away from everyone and everything he'd lost his knights, as it were. Potter was starting to question things and fall into a depression, and with him went the queen piece. Lupin and Black's son was still very much missing, in spite of Lupin trying to track him down, and so went the pawn controlling the remaining knight.

Snape was very quickly running out of time. At the moment hiding in Hogwarts was the safest option for him and Potter, with Chase hidden away at the Scottish Den, but this haven was simply a comfortable prison, with Dumbledore as his jailer.

"Why're you here?" He asked, trying to return to a subject he could maintain his footing in. "I told you not to leave the Den."

"Time is up." Chase sighed. "It's up. Sirius…Siri. He shall not return to us and with him passing our time is up."

Snape closed his eyes for a moment. He could easily picture the slightly awkward child, not quite teen, with ridiculously long black hair and sparkling blue eyes that would eventually turn gray, in true Black form. He was probably the single most innocent person Snape had encountered, completely devoid of darkness and anger and pain in spite of his heritage.

The idea of him dying…hurt a considerable amount. Still he couldn't falter. He had to protect what he had left.

"What do you mean out of time?"

"Remus is about to go after Sirius, and others shall undertake the mission along with him. Siri is gone. They will leave Dumbledore's sight forever, falling under the protection of Death itself. For a time it won't be safe to be here."

"You say that as if it's safe now."

Chase smiled thinly. "He will destroy you if you do not bow to his power and I know a Snape bows to no mortal man." Snape returned the smile. He'd been bowing to Dumbledore's power for a very long time, crushed under the weight of his Debt until it bowed his back and he touched the floor.

"Is that so?"

"The Debt is broken. You gave your life in favor of mine and I am dying. He can't save me." He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "I am going to be one of the first casualties of this war."

Snape frowned and leaned forward some. "What do you mean?" He wanted to shake Chase and demand something more than cryptic half-phrases and words. He wanted the simple factual truth, for his was a vampire and they always dealt in logic before they dealt in the mystic.

He wanted to know how to stop it.

"Death comes early for those who fall, The Underworld will tremble with the Wolf's call, The Shifting Moon shall crack the false seeing glass, with Vampire's Folly shall fall the House of Glass." Chase's voice took on a singsong quality, as if he were reciting a nursery rhyme.

Snape sighed and reached up to rub at the bridge of his nose. "Must you be so cryptic?"

"Atlantis." Chase pursed his lips. "We're to run to Atlantis. We best collect Potter."

"Atlantis." Snape echoed. "Potter can't go to Atlantis. Human can't survive the journey." Factually correct. Atlantis, the sunken city that held one of the original magical schools, could only be entered through the sea. Anyone who had to breath regularly would die.

Chase smirked darkly, fangs glinting. "Who said Potter was human anyway? Everything is about to change and Atlantis is one of the few safe places left."

Snape eyed his son for a moment longer, considering further questioning him. At least about his comment about Potter not being human. But, in the end, he just nodded and stood. Who was he to argue with a seer anyway? Even if he tried Chase was likely to continue to quote cryptic nursery rhymes to him until he got frustrated and gave in.

Why waste time?

Atlantis. It had been a great many years since he'd crossed the watery threshold.

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1) As seen in 'You're the Only One', which can been found on my profile. In theory. (I write out of order.)

2) I don't suppose there are any Saiyuki fans out there? The difference between Spirits and Liquors…

3) As learned in 'Because I Could Not Stop For Death'

4) Okay, seriously this time: This is the last part of Puppets. I wasn't going to post it, since it was originally the first part of 'Mad Season' but it demanded to be here. Hopefully we all understand how Vampires and other creatures exist in this universe.


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